Two Years
by FairDrea
Summary: *Short Story* Lydia is given and opportunity to study abroad. But, due to strict Neitherworld Rules, Beetlejuice can't follow. For two years, the two must learn what it takes to survive without each other and they'll find out whether or not they actually can. Rated for language and adult situations.
1. Chapter 1

**Two Years**

By; Fair Drea

**A/N:** Well, I told you guys I had one shots planned and I wasn't lying. Although this isn't a one shot. It's more of a short story. Two more chapters will wrap this one up. That being said, it's an idea I couldn't shake so I'm going with it. Blame the fact that I've been watching the cartoon a LOT lately thanks, in large part, to Mikell. And in larger part to my easy to corrupt daughter who LOVES the cartoon. Kids…ya know I love 'em! Lol. So I hope you guys enjoy this short little bit of emotional/dramatic/smutty shortness.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Beetlejuice and make not profit from the writing of this fic. This is rated for language and deliciously smutty situations. Specifically language in this chapter. Smut to come.

**Chapter One**

Beetlejuice had been staring at his hands for nearly an hour now. Funny, how when you didn't want to face reality, something as stupidly simple as an appendage could become the most interesting thing on the damn planet. But it was either stare at his hands, contemplate the pale skin stretched over bony knuckles, the dirt caked along his cuticles and question the last time he'd ever thought to scrape it off…or watch Lydia pack. And he sure as hell didn't want to do that. Granted, she'd been doing it for the better part of a month. But she was on the last suitcase. And he hated that suitcase. Hated that it held her belongings, hated that it was the one remaining thing to take care of before his Lyds would be gone.

"It's only two years, Beej," she said softly. He winced not only from the sound of her comforting tone but from the soft click of the suitcase locking as well. "It'll go by fast. I promise."

He muttered some noncommittal response, hunching further forward. The suitcase was slid to the side and Lydia took its spot, sinking down beside him. The hands he'd been so engrossed with were now being held between her smaller and much more well-manicured ones. And he hated…_hated_…that it hurt just to see them there.

The silence between them was thick and disgusting. Had it been a corporeal thing, he would have juiced the shit out of it. Finally, Lydia sighed and leaned into him, her head falling to his shoulder. He gritted his teeth against the sharp stabbing ache that the simple act provoked.

"Are you sure you can't come with?"

He sighed, giving into the human need to hold her. "Lyds…I can't. I wish I could, babes. Rules…ya know I hate 'em. Couldn't have picked somewhere in the actual continental U.S., could ya?"

"None of them would pay for it." She sat up quickly and turned, grasping one of his hands tightly between hers. "Say the word, and I'll stay. I'm serious. I know it's a once in a life time opportunity. I know that passing up a chance to study on a fully paid scholarship in Spain would be insane. But Beej," her voice quieted and her gaze fell. "No amount of culture or architecture or…or…_any_ of it…is as important to me as you are."

He should have selfishly taken the opportunity to keep her and run with it. He should have told her to say the three B's and they could be off on their next wild, horribly planned and possibly life threatening Neitherworld adventure. But when you loved someone…you couldn't be that selfish person, no matter how damn badly you wanted to be. And Beetlejuice loved Lydia Deetz. Not in that "you're my best friend ever" way, either. Not anymore. Once the curves kicked in and the maturity eased into every movement she made, every word she said – once she had become a woman, that love had quickly shifted from innocent to downright malicious.

One minute she'd been his Babes, laughing at his immature antics, rolling her eyes at his disgusting manners and screeching over Clair Brewster's latest snide comment. The next, she was this gorgeous, sophisticated, cynical Goddess that he wanted to get his nasty hands all over. If it had been just physical, he might have been more comfortable with it. He was completely capable of acting with lecherous intent and feeling at home in his own skin. But it wasn't just physical. There was all of this…this…human _shit_ wrapped up in it. All this crap that left a bad taste in his mouth and made his skin crawl. Respect, admiration, and the mother of all disgusting things in both her world _and_ his…love.

And it was that very thing that made him do the right thing.

He looked up at Lydia and smiled sadly. "Babes…ya gotta go. I mean…you'd hate yourself if you didn't go. Like you said…this is a once in a lifetime deal. And it's just," he paused and took a minute to swallow, forcing himself to keep the pain out of his voice. "Ya gotta do it."

She slid her fingers through his. "I know."

Again, that uncomfortable silence fell between them. And for once, neither of them used an awkward, well placed one liner to fill it. Instead, several minutes later, Delia did it for them.

"Lydia," came the sing-song call from the lower level of the house. "Come along dear! Your father has the car packed and we don't want to miss the plane!"

"Fucking Christ, does that woman have to say everything like she'd singin' a damn song?" Beetlejuice muttered.

The crude statement along with the unexpected curse startled a laugh from Lydia. "I think I've gotten so used to it that I don't even notice it anymore."

"How can you not notice that," he muttered. "Makes me wanna rip my ears off every time." For the hell of it, he juiced his ears off of his head. They floated on either side and Lydia reached out to grab them with a lop-sided smile, tenderly placing them back where they belonged.

"Annoying as it is…that's my cue." She stood and pulled him up with her.

Her eyes were suddenly as interesting as his hands had been only moments before. He couldn't stop staring into their obsidian depths and picturing what it would be like to love her in every aspect of the word. Without even realizing he was doing it, he lifted a hand to brush the thick fall of bangs back and then curled his hand around the nape of her neck.

Those eyes widened slightly. Had he been more in tuned to human emotions instead of repulsed by them, he may have recognized the confusion and longing flashing under the fringe of thick lashes.

"Two years," she whispered.

"Two years," he muttered back.

She sprung forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "I'll stay if you tell me to," she whispered against his neck, her hot breath against his cold skin forcing a shiver of anticipation to travel the length of his spine.

_Fuck it! Tell her to stay! Make her stay. Tell her you love her and you want to toss her ass on the bed, make an honest woman outta her, show her what it's like to be with someone who's whole damn dead world revolves around her!_

"Ya gotta go, Lyds," he force himself to say. "Go…learn…see all the sights. Bring me back somethin'."

Her laugh sounded forced and watery. "I will."

_Just because she's leavin' doesn't mean you shouldn't tell her. Do it…what have you got to lose._

"Lydia…I lo-."

She pulled back, staring up at him expectantly, her eyes searching his in a way that made him want to squirm.

"I'll miss ya, Babes."

And the smile she left him with, the last image she would leave him with was a heartbreaking quirk of full, dark lips that made him want to rip his heart out and hand it to her.

"I'll miss you too, Beetlejuice."

He forced a smile in return, rocking back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets because if he didn't he was going to grab her and refuse to let her leave. "Two more times."

One lone tear ghosted over her cheek. "Beetlejuice."

He felt the pull of the Neitherworld dragging him back. A voice inside of him screamed it's denial in some horrible, haunted shriek. Lydia stepped forward, placed one hand against his cheek and pressed her lips to the other, then whispered his name one last time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Years **

By; Fair Drea

**Chapter Two **

One year, three months and five days ago, Beetlejuice could easily remember staring down at his hands in efforts to avoid the inevitable "goodbye" he would have to give Lydia. One year, three months and five days later, he was staring down at those hands again. Except this time, they loosely clasped a tumbler full of what he was using to replace Lydia. It was doing a piss poor job too. The amber contents, so low now that he could see the bottom of his glass, seemed to gaze sadly back up at him as if to say 'no matter how much of me you suck down, it's not gonna stop hurting.'

Easy enough. He'd replace this temporary friend with something that was better suited to dull the yawning ache of loving and missing his best friend.

Beetlejuice tossed the rest of the whiskey back and slammed the empty glass down on the countertop, drawing the exasperated attention of the bartender on the opposite end of the bar. He took his time placing the last of the few unwashed glasses away, then ambled down to where the sulking poltergeist sat.

"Refill?"

Beetlejuice didn't bother glancing up. "Arcynide."

Where whiskey was steadily failing him, the deadly mix of arsenic and cyanide would suitably dull and possibly force those unwanted human emotions away entirely.

The only reaction the bartender gave him was a lift of one shaggy eyebrow before turning to grab an aged bottle from the top shelf. A new glass took the place of his tumbler - this one shorter and more suitable for one satisfying shot of the real hard stuff which he poured until the clouded liquid sloshed over the rim and splashed onto the bar top.

Beetlejuice hesitated only for a moment. He'd never had Arcynide before. He knew existed in the Neitherworld. He knew that those really steady patrons, the lost-in-their-afterlife saps drank it liberally in hopes that they could die once more and escape their purgatory. And up until now, the idea of downing a shot of poison hadn't crossed his mind. Up until now, he'd managed to keep himself steadily drunk enough to cope with the horrifying, gut-wrenching hole Lydia had left in her absence.

He'd made it a week and a half without her, terrorizing Neitherworld patrons, making the usual nuisance out of himself. But without Lydia there to shake her head at him or give him that chiding look with just a flash of excited approval…the usual antics felt hollow and pointless.

At the end of the second week he'd found himself a bar, he'd found himself a cause, and he'd devoted nearly every hour to drowning out humanity.

"Two fucking years," he muttered. "Try an eternity."

The shot went down like it had been nothing more than water. But as he started to set the glass aside, his vision suddenly blurred and hot, vengeful hands wrapped around his neck, burning him from the inside out. He gripped the edge of the bar, feeling unsteady and yet impossibly tense at the same time.

He stopped thinking. He nearly stopped existing. He went entirely numb. It was exactly what he needed to stop the pain of loving Lydia Deetz.

* * *

Lydia stared down at the suitcase, now filled to the very top with every item she'd left for the last minute to pack. It was the one thing that had symbolized her goodbye to Beetlejuice. And now, it symbolized her return. And as shameful and ungrateful as she felt for being so excited to have this experience come to an end, she couldn't shake the need to be with the one man who mattered more to her than anything.

"So, that's all of it, hm?"

Smiling, Lydia turned to face her roommate, Melody. "Should be, yes."

Standing nearly a foot taller than her with blond hair that rivaled Clair Brewster's and ears so pierced the flesh was hardly visible between bars of silver and flashes of green and blue, Melody had been her saving grace when coming to Spain. She'd kept her busy, she'd kept her distracted and she'd shown her how to shred the last vestiges of her former self to embrace the woman she was steadily becoming.

With a thoughtful hum and a contemplative look, Melody approached Lydia, took her hand and spun her until she was facing the full length mirror mounted on the dorm-room door.

"Where's the frightened little goth girl who showed up on my doorstep two years ago?"

Lydia smiled patiently at her roommate's reflection, feeling that age old need to respond the same way she always responded to Beetlejuice when he made some comment she knew was true but had been worded unnaturally.

And although she hadn't done away with her outward appearance entirely, Lydia could not deny the fact that she was not at all the same person she had been when she'd arrived in Spain. Staring back at her with confident, dark eyes was a woman who was more aware of her sex appeal, who stood taller, who wore her close less to hide her figure and more to accent her sophistication and personal style. Lydia had known who she was before. But now…she rejoiced in it.

"You're not going to need to tell him much of anything that you can't say with your body or a look." Moving back, Melody derisively snapped Lydia's suitcase shut and sat down beside it. "Have you thought about what you're going to say to him?"

The confidence clouded over slightly. "Nothing really sounds right."

_How do you tell your best friend that you can't stop thinking about kissing him or having his hands all over you. How do you tell him that even though you know he hates every form of sweet, sappy, human emotion there is…you love him? _

"I say skip talking and go straight for the sex."

Laughing and entirely unsurprised by Melody's offhand comment, Lydia turned from the mirror. "You would say that."

"Well, really…words just get in the way of the important stuff anyway. He's going to take one look at you and bam, it'll be over."

Melody reminded her so much of Beetlejuice. She may have been the stereotypical version of the woman every man wanted, but she was crass, she was honest and she loved anything that had to do with fear. Which is why Lydia hadn't hedged on talking to her about Beetlejuice. Omitting, of course, the fact that he was dead. That would forever remain her secret.

Suddenly, Melody bounced up from the bed, grabbed her suitcase, then took her hand and pulled her towards the door. "Come on."

"Come on?" Lydia managed, reaching for her purse and barely grasping the slim handle before she was yanked out the door.

"The only thing you haven't bothered to mess with is your hair. That's two years of nothing more than a couple trims. We're changing that right now. My gift to you…and a pedicure for me while I wait."

Just like Beetlejuice, Lydia thought with a roll of her eyes.

* * *

She had managed to make it through a haircut and style, a rather tearful goodbye with Melody, hours on a plane in which she'd downed several miniature bottles of Pinot Nior to calm her unsteady nerves, the constant gushing of her mother and fussing of her father through the terminal, the detailed account of every "Delia Worthy" social event in Peaceful Pines over supper at the restaurant they'd dragged her to and the unexpected drop in of Prudence and Bertha (who were apparently now a very happy couple) right as they were about to leave. And, miraculously, she'd done it all without screaming.

By the time Charles pulled into the driveway, Lydia was nearly trembling with anticipation. She pleaded exhaustion and a headache which bought her a quick pass to her room where she shut the door eagerly behind her and then leaned back against it.

Nothing had changed. Her room was just as she'd left it down to the pair of flats at the foot of the bed that she'd exchanged for black flip flops before leaving. She looked to the mirror, her breath catching. It was blank, reflecting only the corner of the bed.

Pushing away from the door, she started towards the vanity, wondering if he that knew she was back, if he had been counting the days just as she had. It was almost disappointing to feel the lack of _him_ in her room. She'd been missing him for so long that she had just assumed alking into her room would stop that emotion from being so persistent.

She braced her hands on either side of the mirror and stared at her reflection. Determination shone in her eyes, shaded by the fringe of bangs hanging over them. She was done missing him - finished with that lonely shadow that haunted her when he couldn't. She would have Beetlejuice back…and she would have him _now_.

She murmured the chant still so familiar to her, startled by how throaty and feminine her voice sounded.

"Though I know I should be wary, still I venture some place scary. Ghostly haunting I turn loose…Beetlejuice…Beetlejuice….Beetlejuice…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Two Years**

By; FairDrea

**Chapter Three**

"Sonufabitch!"

Beetlejuice jerked back, holding his hand to his chest and rubbing it while staring down the offending wires protruding from the mess that was Doomie's engine. The green roadster beeped worriedly.

"S'alright Doom's. Just nicked a wire," Beetlejuice muttered before shoving the sleeves of his obnoxiously maroon shirt up and returning to the task he'd started earlier that morning. Doomie had been making sounds that weren't exactly disgusting, but not exactly fun to listen to either. He needed a tune up. But when a ghost was short on cash, having pissed most of it away at a local bar over the course of several months, he couldn't exactly pay to have the dragster fixed up. So, feeling only slightly optimistic but needing a distraction, Beetlejuice had taken it upon himself to attempt a little under-the-hood repair work. It was obvious after the second hour that he wasn't getting far at all.

But distractions were distractions and this was one he could afford. It was also one that was a lot less damaging. After his stint with Arcynide, he'd come up with much less hazardous and damaging ways of keeping his mind off of how badly he missed Lydia. And he had Prince Vince to thank for that.

_"Well…it appears as if you have hit rock bottom."_

_Beetlejuice glanced up from his spot at the bar and glared at Prince Vince as the pasty slip of a man took up the seat next to him. _

_"I was advised of your current state and the measures you have gone to in attempts to cope with the loss of the fair Lydia. You can imagine my surprise to believe that the so called 'ghost with the most' had ceased all manner of bothering the public in exchange for constant inebriation."_

_"Either make your fucking point, or get lost Princey. I don't need the company," Beetlejuice managed in a gravelly, slurred voice. _

_"Well, you very much need something, Beetlejuice. And as your friend, I feel it necessary to talk you out of your current inauspicious behaviors."The bartender stopped in front of them, ignoring Beetlejuice outright as he had been doing for the past forty minutes and keeping his attention focused on Prince Vince._

_"Oh, might I have a gin and tonic please? That would be lovely."_

_Beetlejuice sneered at the polite, clipped tones the Prince used. He made ordering a drink sound like such a sissy thing. And a gin and tonic made him nowhere near the kind of company Beetlejuice wanted to be keeping at the moment...which was none. _

_He wanted to throw up. Right there, in the middle of the bar, feeling just fine in his drunken stupor, Beetlejuice wanted to throw up all over the Prince's pointed boots. And not because of the poison's coursing through his system. But because he had wanted to, just to get the obnoxious little twerp to shut the hell up. _

_"Unless you've got somethin' useful to say, finish your drink and get the hell out of here." _

_The Prince had the balls to smile. Nothing huge. Just an amused turn of the lips that infuriated Beetlejuice even more. "I do apologize. I thought this was a public venue. Pardon me, barkeep. This establishment is open to the public, is it not?" _

_The bartender nodded before setting the Prince's drink down in front of him. "Sure is." _

_"Thank you for clearing that up, my good man." _

_Vince tilted his head back and took what could only be described as a dainty sip of his drink, making a disgusting noise of approval. The need to wrap his hands around the man's thin neck was becoming harder and harder to ignore. _

_"So, our dear Lydia has gone to study abroad, has she?" When Beetlejuice offered him nothing more than mutinous silence, Vince continued on, his uncharacteristically chipper voice grating almost painfully on Beetlejuice's nerves. _

_"What a marvelous opportunity for her. Ah, but alas, I suppose those pesky Neitherworld laws prevented you from following." _

_"They're your laws," Beetlejuice snarled, shoving his glass forward for a refill. One more shot and everything would stop existing - Lydia, Vince and every revolting emotion tied to them. _

_Just as the bartender was about to pour, Vince held up his hand. "He'll have a soda water." _

_Beetlejuice spun, ready to kill. "The fuck I will! Give me a damn shot of-." _

_Vince stared at him, his dark eyes hard. "He'll have...a soda water," he commanded in an authoritative voice. _

_The bartender immediately complied. _

_"I think, Beetlejuice, that it is high time you sobered up." _

_"Listen here, Vincey. Just because you're some snot nosed, royal shit doesn't mean I won't juice the hell-." _

_"Do you even remember how to? From what I understand, you have frequented this establishment and drank your rationality away as if Lydia had left you for good instead of a simple two years. Being that this is not the case, I dare say that you are being extremely dramatic and that the lady in question would be quite disgusted with your behavior." _

_The Prince looked away from Beetlejuice, taking a slow sip of his drink. "However...I can't say that I'm entirely disappointed in your current state. With you like this, getting Lydia to accept a proposal to be my queen should be considerably easy." _

_Metal scraped over the concrete floor as Beetlejuice jumped to his feet, grabbing the Prince's collar and yanking him up by it. "You even think about touchin' Lyds and there's gonna have to be a new word made for what I'll do to you," he hissed. His vision blurred and for a moment, he thought he would fall over. _

_The Prince watched him, the pleasant smile vanishing. "You will not be able to manage much, being as fall-down-drunk as you are. Might I suggest that you clean yourself up and find less destructive ways to deal with Lydia's absence? I'm certain it would not please her in the slightest to know that this is what you have been up to. And you wouldn't want to disappoint Lydia, now would you?" _

_Beetlejuice shoved the Prince back, simultaneously releasing him. He might have hated the guy, but he couldn't deny that the Prince had been right. _

_"Might I also suggest that when she does return, you pull your head out of your back-side and tell her that you love her...before someone else does." _

The threat had caused the Prince's drink to end up over his head, but his words were true and they had stuck. Lydia would be furious if she knew how poorly he was handling her leaving. And she wasn't dead. He hadn't lost her.

_That you know of..._

And right there had been the reason for his poor coping methods. She was an ocean away, where he couldn't mock her dates, where he couldn't whisk her away on countless adventures. She could have the life that humans should have and not the life of a woman that a ghost was selfishly in love with.

So, he'd done what the Prince had told him to do. He'd gone home, he'd sobered up and he'd found as many mundane tasks as he could to keep his mind off of Lydia and those things that had driven him to downing insane amounts of mixed poisons.

Those tasks...hell, he'd had to keep busy with them so that he wouldn't dwell on just how...productive and nauseating they were. Taking his parents to their weekly social events, yard work, grossery shopping, cleaning out the skeletons in his closet (which had involved sitting in front of it and listing off truths. It was impressive to see just how many cleared out after he'd admitted his feelings for Lydia.) He'd spent nearly half of a day convincing himself to clean, a week and a half suffering through the act and then had devoted just as much time to constructing a large worm farm for Lydia that had become the focal point of the living room.

Sure, he could have spent his time driving people crazy and getting in more trouble than he probably had a right to, but without Lydia there...it just didn't seem all that entertaining.

Leaning over the engine and bracing his hands on Doomy's grill, Beetlejuice sighed. "Probably just makin' it worse," he muttered.

The double entendre of his words wasn't lost on him and his scowl deepened. He needed another distraction, something that would make him feel like he was actually _doing _something.

The doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts and he pushed away from the car, glancing back over his shoulder. Probably Jaque or Ginger checking in on him. They'd done their part to pull him back to the land of the un-living and continued to make sure their efforts hadn't gone to the wayside. This included check-in's every other day that were growing tedious and annoying. No, make that _more_ tedious and annoying, even on the days that they didn't stop by. Because he knew that they would be coming the next and...well, it irritated the hell out of him.

"Back in a bit, Dooms," he muttered, pulling a rag from his pocket and putting a half-hearted effort into wiping the grease from his hands. As much as he hated it, he couldn't deny that living in a house not overtaken by filth was a lot easier, so keeping it that way was something he'd gotten in the habit of doing without even thinking about doing so.

The doorbell rang again and he snorted in disgust. "Jeezus, Jaque, keep your fucking skull on. I'm gettin' there!"

He yanked the door open and went completely still, an unsettling numbness taking over his body. One that went beyond the chill of death and settled into every bit of him.

Standing on the other side of the door wasn't a do-gooder skeleton or a tap-dancing spider. It was a woman. Dark eyes peered up at him through a fringe of black bangs, the longest part of the short and tousled hairstyle. Her blood red lips parted slightly, then quirked up as a smile lit up her face.

He reached for the door, grabbing it for balance. "Lyds?"

"Hey, BJ," she murmured in a throaty voice that had seduced him countless times in his dreams.

She was nothing like the Lydia that had left him. She was slightly taller, more filled out and stood like a woman who was very much aware of the power she could hold over a man. The poncho that had hung from a girlish frame two years ago now clung to every curve. The black leggings stopped just below her knees and looked as if they had been painted on.

_Two Years..._

They were the only two words he needed to think to shatter any grasp on restraint that he had left. His Lyds was back. He was done wasting time. He reached forward, hauled her into his arms and silenced her startled shriek with a kiss.

Okay, so I lied. Four chapters. Because I do recall promising some readers some smut and when it comes to that, I do like to keep my promises. :)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this took a while. I had hoped to get it all done in four days but writing smut from Beetlejuice's POV is damned tricky business! Hope it was worth the wait and thank you for all of the reviews and favs! Out we go with a bang! :D

**Two Years**

By; Fair Drea

**Chapter Four **

Beetlejuce had lost track of how many times he'd thought of kissing Lydia. How he'd hold her, how she'd react, how wild it would be. Thoughts were thoughts though. They didn't involve trying to think past "oh shit, now what?" which was the point he was currently at.

Aside from the tiny noise she'd initially made, Lydia hadn't made another sound. She stood completely still, her lips unmoving, her wide eyes staring up at his. Which he hadn't shut. Because he wasn't thinking. _Clearly_ he wasn't thinking.

He jerked back, trying not to let it show just how confused, embarrassed, angry and hurt he was, telling himself that each emotion was stupid as shit and he was better than that. And then she started crying.

"Aw, Babes. Don't do that," he muttered, afraid to touch her and yet wanting to more than he ever had ever wanted to touch anything in his afterlife.

She lunged forward, taking him by surprise, and then those soft, pouty dark lips were all over his, her arms were around his neck and she was pressed against him in a way that stirred up every wicked, Lydia-centered fantasy in the back of his head. Shock quickly wore off and he slid his hands into her hair, gripping fistfulls and kissing her back as if he were starving simply for a taste of her. And he was. He'd wanted nothing more than to drown in the taste of Lydia since the day that the curves of that body had started teasing him.

He shoved her back against the door, one hand dropping to her waist and stealing around it to pull her closer still. She made the tiniest sound. It was hardly anything – a breathy sigh caught between them. And yet it drove him out of his mind.

"I missed you so much," she sobbed brokenly against his lips, as unwilling as he was to stop what they'd precariously started.

"Missed you too, Babes. It was hell." He found it in him to move away. Framing her face between his hands, he rested his forehead against hers and tried to pull himself together. It was pointless. She could take one look at him and he would fall apart all over again.

"I love you, Lyds." The words were out before he could even think them.

She closed her eyes, drawing in a trembling breath and releasing it as she sagged against him. "The best friend kind of love?"

He grinned, a chuckle rising in his throat. "The thought-about-screwin' –your-brains-out-every-day-you-were-gone kind of love."

He had expected her to laugh, to take some of the tension out of the moment because that tension was starting to drive him nuts. He didn't do tension. He didn't do emotions. And what was happening now was putting him in the position to do both, regardless of whether or not he wanted to.

Instead, she slid her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, her gaze burning just as much as her touch did. The lust flashing in her eyes clashed with the tears still staining her cheeks as she leaned up, stopped a mere breath away from his mouth and murmured, "I thought about that too."

"Yeah?" he couldn't help asking, swallowing hard as she inched closer still, her sultry gaze holding his.

She hummed little "m-hm" and he nearly groaned. How the hell did she learn how to make noises like that? To cause him to revert to human behavior without even realizing it?

"Every night. I had to talk myself out of getting on countless planes, coming back to tell you that I loved you, that I needed-."

Where ever she was going with that, he didn't care. He yanked her back to him, slanting his mouth over hers and catching her startled gasp. He didn't stop at just a simple kiss this time. He mercilessly nipped at her bottom lip, ran his tongue over it until her lips parted. He took full advantage, deepening the kiss until every shred of modesty, all traces wariness fell away, leaving behind desire and greed.

Lydia shuddered, her nails biting into his shoulders. He tightened his hold on her and lifted her, groaning as her legs wrapped around his waist. The creature he'd set free was one he'd dreamed about countless nights – alive, wanton, driven by her carnal nature. He could taste her desperation, her love for him…the life so vibrant and addictive. It was far more potent than Arcynide had ever been. The only difference was that he could function even when he was drowning in it. He couldn't think, but he could sure as hell function.

She tore herself away and pulled her poncho over her head, tossing it aside and he was rewarded with the briefest glance of perfection before she was kissing him again.

"Tell me what else ya did," he muttered. He had no clue where the command had come from but suddenly he really wanted to know the answer to that question.

He could feel her lips turn up in an impish grin.

"Sometimes…I'd lay awake at night and think about what it would be like…sleeping with you. What you would do, how it would make me feel. When thinking about it wasn't enough, I'd touch myself. I'd close my eyes tight and pretend it was you."

"Cripes, Lyds, you really did that?" he managed, the image of her touching herself nearly snapping what little control remained.

She pulled away, her wide eyes regarding him seriously. "Didn't you?"

She was serious. She was dead serious. She wanted him to admit to something he'd never admitted to a soul as freely as she had. This game wasn't supposed to turn around on him. He'd just been curious. But the way she was looking at him…

"Yeah…yeah, I did," he said, smiling a little. "Couldn't stop wantin' ya even when I tried."

"Why would you try?"

"Dunno…because I didn't think I could have ya."

She brushed her nose against his. "You can have me now," she whispered.

He hadn't needed permission. But the way she had said it…there was something there that said more than just having her. It said having her, it said loving her, it said being _everything_ to her. She'd never belong to a breather. She'd never give one a shot. He was it for her and…if he'd just take her.

"Lydia…there's no turnin' back from this. You'll be mine…and that'll be it. A dead guy and a breather…for the rest of your life."

She brushed her nails along the curve of his jaw. "I've always been yours, Beej. I always will be yours. A breather and a dead guy…for the rest of my life." That impish smile was back, doing things to him that he hadn't felt in years, making his gut twist and a heart that hadn't beat in ages pound furiously. "Now…if you'll kindly get on with it before I have to take care of matters on my own-."

He cackled, leaning down to bite her neck. She gasped, unconsciously pressing her scantily clad breasts against his chest. "You got it, Babes."

"And if you even _think_ about making some kind of dumb pun-."

"Aw, Babes…come on. I'm as serious as a corpse."

Her laughter was lost against his lips as she leaned down to kiss him, her tongue brushing slowly over his and pulling a groan of surrender from him. Turning, he kicked the front door shut and juiced the lock, making sure there would be no interruptions. He had years to make up for and every intention of taking days to do it. Now, if he could only get to the bedroom…

But the way she was kissing him, the impatient press of her hips against his, her nails raking down his back-.

Screw it, location didn't matter. The wall was about as damn good as it was going to get. At least for now. And he could help but think it was pretty fitting that the wall just happened to be the thick glass enclosure of the worm farm he'd built for her.

Stumbling a little, he braced her against the chilled surface, his hands gripping her hips as he drug his teeth down the pale column of her neck, over that delectable dip of her collar bone and down between the black lace he would soon be doing away with. Soon, but not yet. He nuzzled her right breast, the soft flesh so hot against his. Her heart pounded unsteadily there, jumping when his mouth closed around the lace covered nipple and his teeth nipped playfully.

Sagging against the glass, a slow smile curving her lips, Lydia closed her eyes. Her hands twined through his hair but didn't hold him. He moved to the other breast, roughly grasping it in his hand before teasing the nipple between his tongue and teeth, being much less careful. He grinned when she moaned low in her throat, her head dropping forward and her body trembling. So, his Lyds liked it a little rough, did she? That was good to know.

Releasing her breast, he skimmed his hand over her ribs, down the flat of her stomach and ran his fingertips along the curve of her hip bone until they touched the waistline of one of the many remaining barriers between them.

_No problem there-._

He slid his hand between her legs and pressed his palm against her. She arched against him, making a delectable sound of need. He was starting to love those sounds more and more, wondering just how many different ones she was capable of making and how he could go about finding out. If he pressed his fingers against her heat-.

Lydia cried out and pushed away from him, unwrapping her legs. He would have complained long and loud had she not wiggled her way out of those leggings and shown him how little she was wearing underneath. Which…was a whole lot of nothing.

"Babes-."

"What?" she asked, her smile coy, "I'm not allowed to go commando?"

"Never said that," he muttered, his eyes glued to her. "When did you…how…I mean…wha-."

"Wow, speechless? There's something new." She turned from him, looking over her shoulder as she reached back to unclasp her bra which quickly joined the growing pile of clothing on the floor. "They have some great spas in Spain. I started to frequent one, especially after becoming addicted to wax jobs. I'm guessing you like?"

He managed a nod. Not much of one, but he managed. "Yeeeah, I like."

Facing him once more, a Goddess in her nudity, Lydia closed the distance between them with a few delicate steps. Her hands went to the clasps of his overalls.

"I think…that I shouldn't be the only one naked right now," she murmured. A light tug and the straps slipped back over his shoulders as the stiff fabric pooled at his feet. Next, she went for the buttons of his shirt, her nimble fingers quickly working the buttons free then pushing the shirt from his shoulders, her gaze hot and eager.

An annoying part of him was humbled. He'd never thought some knock out like Lydia would want to see him without any clothing on, let alone touch him. But that's exactly what she was doing, running her hands along his sides, down to the waist line of his boxers where they rested briefly.

"You okay, Beej?"

He couldn't find an answer. All he could do was stare down at her, the girl turned woman that he needed more than he'd ever admit. His best friend, soon to be so much more. Curling a hand around her neck and drawing her close, he nudged her tiny nose with his and was rewarded with a blinding smile.

"Better than I've ever been, Babes."

The task of stripping him forgotten, Lydia wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with gentle reverence. "You're about to be a lot better," she promised, her voice a thick whisper of emotion that didn't do a damn thing to for the intended suggestion.

He lifted her in his arms, and carried her to the bedroom where he laid her on the bed and then just stood there for a moment staring down at her. One leg was slightly bent, an arm was stretched over her head and dark eyes filled with an endearing mixture of lust and wariness watched him just as closely as he watched her.

He could ask her if she wanted this, he could ask her if she was sure. He could give her that option to back down now before they officially shattered what slivers of friendship remained. But he didn't want to. Months wasted poisoning himself, wanting her to the point of insanity, kept him from giving her a chance to rethink her decision. There would be plenty of time to explore the nuances of a sexual relationship. Now…he was going to take what he wanted…and damn the fucking consequences if there were any.

_Like there'll be any,_ he thought as he divulged himself of his boxers and joined her in bed, nearly falling into those outstretched arms that promised him everything.

_I'm never gonna be perfect, Babes…nowhere near. I'm never gonna be that guy you deserve-._

He trapped her hands over her head, ran his tongue up the smooth column of her neck where the pulse beat so strong.

_I'm gonna always be a million different kinds of wrong for ya. Never gonna be the guy you can bring home to your folks. _

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him close and he kissed her deeply as he pushed into her, swallowing her sharp cry of pleasure.

_But I'll always know ya better than anyone. You're mine. Mine now…mine when you move on…_

Lydia clung to him, her body moving in effortless synch with his. She altered between sobbing his name, pleading him, saying things he couldn't even understand.

_I'll love ya more than any guy – dead or alive – ever will. _

Her cries became more fevered, her body going so unbelievably tense beneath his, so hot that it scalded his cold skin. He slid an arm under her, pulled her close and thrust into her, his teeth sinking into the skin of her shoulder and as his name left her beautiful lips in a broken cry of triumphant, he groaned and finally found the release he'd been craving for years.

He could feel the weakness that washed over her with her release, felt it drag him with. Collapsing next to her, he pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair and loving her so much that it damn near hurt.

One day, he'd tell her about the Arcynide, about the lengths he'd gone to deal with not having her for two years. Right now, he would just hold her and love her with everything he had because those two years had been hell. The next two though and every single one after, he thought with a grin, kissing her temple where the hair lay matted to the skin from her sweat - the next two were going to be pretty damn amazing.


End file.
